Bed, Breakfast and Blood
by jeza.red
Summary: Bilbo Baggins set out to open his own B&B in the marvelous place up North. He bought a gorgeous Georgian mansion with a beautiful view and a lot of potential. What he didn't expect to get in the deal were surprisingly pleasant neighbors. Really, they are lovely, kind, generous people...
1. Chapter 1

Bilbo's first opinion of Erebor was that the mansion certainly needed dusting. Extensive dusting. And quite a lot of laundering – that thought came when he tried to pull the curtains shielding high windows in the hall apart and got a face-full of dust for his trouble.

The building was in a generally good shape, considering that it stood abandoned for the last sixty years – apart from the unbelievable amount of dust gathered on every surface the rest seemed to be in order: the roofing was sound, walls and ceilings free of mold, pipes were not leaking all over the place when filled back with water. Only one electric socket required repair. Bathtubs and sinks were not marked by limescale, tiles on the walls and floors were mostly un-cracked. Most of the lightbulbs on the ground floor was working! The place seemed perfectly preserved, as if just waiting for someone to come and bring it back to life.

It managed to calm Bilbo Baggins down in a way – as the situation that led to him standing in the front hall of the impressive abode was stressful and unpleasant on almost every front, it was a relief to know that at least _something_ was working in his favour.

Funeral of uncle Isengrim and following disputes about his inheritance that stretched unpleasantly for months – thanks to his aunt Lobelia and her greedy husband – took a toll on Bilbo, leaving him very exhausted and simply sad. He loved his uncle and squabbling over his Last Will filled him with distaste. If not for the old friend of his mother, an elderly gentleman who turned out to be a retired lawyer and decided to help Bilbo free of charge, the red tape would strangle them all.

And, more importantly, Bilbo would never have enough funds to buy this perfect place and start working on his own little project.

Well, maybe 'little' was not a good word for it, because the estate was, to tell the truth, huge – especially for a single man who's spent half of his life in a three bedroom flat in the centre of Bree with his parents, and the other half, sans last five years, sharing a small townhouse with a group of rather rowdy students. The building itself was a massive Georgian mansion, two floors and cellars sprawling underneath them, a big attic and a conservatory. There were twelve bedrooms, two sitting rooms, miles upon miles of corridors decked in dark wood and musty rugs. And last, but not least, twelve acres of land that surrounded the whole deal.

Erebor stood proudly on top of a hill that gently slopped into a picturesque valley on the bottom of which has laid a small town called Ironhill. Behind her back mountain range composed of ragged lines and steep walls climbed up to the sky, harsh and wild, yet impressive all the same. The land had to look beautiful in the summer, Bilbo suspected, but now, in the late October, it was beyond description. He felt as if someone has ripped him out of the boring, grey reality and thrown him into a fairy tale. The snow came early this year and already everything was covered in a thick layer of white softness that glistered in the sun. Frost covered trees and shrubs making them to look like delicate sculptures made by some skilled artist rather than Mother Nature.

It took one day, no, one _moment_ for Bilbo Baggins to fall in love with this place.

Actually, it was just one look; after he stepped out of the car and stretched his legs, after he turned around to take a look down the driveway, down the hill… the sun was slowly inching behind the mountains, its last surviving rays reflecting on the snow and covering the landscape in a golden halo. The raw beauty of it has stolen his breath and Bilbo Baggins knew, deep in his heart, that there was no way back, that he will stay in this marvellous place until the end of his days.

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"_The estate was well taken care of since her last owner passed away,"_ Mister Balin, solicitor responsible for Erebor, told him after all the papers has been signed and the keys exchanged hands. "_People from Ironhill take pride in it and hated to see it fall into disuse. Luckily, you've shown up, Mister Baggins."_

And indeed, save for copious amounts if dust, Erebor didn't look abandoned. It looked… expectant.

Bilbo has sworn that he will not disappoint her. For his own use he adapted a small set of rooms that in the past was probably some sort of servant's annex. It suited him quite well and was a bit more 'modern' than the rest of the house that was splendidly preserved in its austerity and historical accuracy. People were ready to pay good money to spend their time in the grand rooms such as those and Bilbo wanted to leave them to it.

He was happy with his little suite of decently sized bedroom, quaint little bathroom and something that was probably a walk-in pantry that was converted into a small office. One of the best things about it was that the annex connected to the rest of the house via its own small staircase (that Bilbo liked to pretend to be a secret passage) and trough the big kitchen that fully answered his passion for cooking.

The house lacked _some_ comforts, of course. There was no central heating and he was told that power lines tended to be moody during the spells of bad weather. Also, there was no TV reception ("_Mountains_", Mr Balin explained with an apologetic smile) and there was only one phone as the landline was not to be trusted either. Thank goodness it was possible to pull the internet cables from Ironhill, but that would have to wait until spring at best.

But these smell things were not enough to chase off a Baggins – they were stubborn lot and, truth to be told, liked simplicity. Bilbo never felt good when surrounded by crowds of people and preferred silence and peace over the bustling town centre any day.

With that in mind, he went about the business of making the mansion liveable again in a calm and organised manner. He catalogued all the things that needed fixing, made notes on every room and possible use of every piece of old furniture, he scribbled numbers and prices from numerous catalogues he's brought with him. All was going quite well for the first week.

Until the snowstorm that cut him off from the world.

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It took three days until Bilbo started to panic. He was prepared for harsh winter, of course he was, and his pantry was quite well stocked, thank you; there was also enough wood stacked in the back of the house to last him three winters if necessary (and he wondered who was the good soul that chopped it all into manageable bits), but… he was running out of tea fast.

He's finished the last bottle of milk on the second day and from then on his anxiety stared to grow.

The snow drifts outside were almost four feet tall, the driveway was indistinguishable – so was the road down the hill, for that matter. His hatchback didn't have a chance of getting out of the shed and walking two miles in the freezing cold didn't sound appealing at all. Bilbo was sure that if the snow stays at some point he _will_ be forced to brave this possibility… but that also made him think of other possible implications.

What if the snow stays till spring? How will he get the renovation crew into Erebor? How will he make it ready for the start of the summer? He will lose time and money and, in the worst case scenario, will lose the whole season!

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to move in yet? Maybe he should have waited until spring – maybe he should have asked more questions and wasn't so eager to leave Bree and his quarrelling family behind?

Also, the feeling of isolation made it difficult for Bilbo to settle down. The mansion loomed over him, grand and silent, save for some occasional rustle or creak; it was suddenly… less comfortable and more… distressing. Bilbo was not the kind of person who believed in ghosts or other such nonsense, he was a Baggins, and they were known for their healthy sceptism in the face of anything that as much as _smelled_ of mystery. Bilbo was not afraid of the dark, but he was afraid of the roof breaking under the weight of snow or the sparks form the chimney somehow causing fire when he wasn't looking. He also felt a healthy dose of respect for any hungry predator that may stumble upon him during his short ventures for firewood.

On the fifth day of the snow-in Bilbo's weakening nerves caused the biggest calamity imaginable – two weeks after moving into the mansion he has run out of tea.

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Bilbo Baggins, if anything, was an organised person and the trip to Ironhill was planned to the last detail two days before the date he set for it. He's made sure that his winter clothes are dry and accounted for, the battery of his flashlight is fully charged and his backpack is ready. He's made a list of the products necessary for survival – the way uphill will be a lot harder than downhill and he didn't want to overstuff the bag. All that was left was waiting.

And so he waited. With a cup of steaming chamomile and a book, reclining in the old armchair in front of the brightly lit fireplace Bilbo Baggins was quite content.

Until, that is, the doorbell rang.

After swallowing his heart back into the chest (and dealing with the chamomile he's spilled all over his left knee, thank you very much) Bilbo spared a moment to wonder what in the goodness was going on, who would show up on his doorstep at this hour and in this kind of weather, before he got up and rushed to find out. Walk from the kitchen to the foyer took a while during which the doorbell didn't stop chiming, its soft sounds echoing in the otherwise silent stillness of the house.

When he came to the door, Bilbo didn't open it right away. He was smart enough to be wary, as his mother taught him when he was still very young, and decided to listen instead. There was a little visor in the door, but it was covered in frost and useless, but the wooden barrier wasn't thick enough to keep the noises from the outside completely and Bilbo could hear two voices – somewhat muffled, but distinguishable.

"What if he's not in?" One asked.

"No, he has to be, the car is in the shed." The other replied.

"Of course it is, there's no point in taking it out in this snow. Maybe he went out?"

"And where would he go? We've met no one on the way from the town, brother. No one has seen him in a week."

"But there's no lights!"

"Maybe power went out again? Look, there' smoke coming out of the chimney. He's in."

"Maybe he's sleeping?"

"The he's better wake up, because I don't fancy trekking down the hill with all this stuff on my back. Climbing one way was hard enough."

_Stuff? What did they bring? _Bilbo wondered, trying to see through the cloudy visor without much success. The voices seemed young and their specific accent put them firmly in the area of Ironhill.

Curious now more than anything, Bilbo decided to be brave and opened the door a crack.

What he saw were two figures swathed in coats, their faces obscured by scarfs and hats pulled so low that he could barely see their eyes. In the evening gloom they were hardly distinguishable from the junipers growing next to the porch if not for the way they both jumped and turned to him.

"Hello?" Bilbo asked, trying to sound stern and '_we want no problems here'_. "Who's there?"

"You must be Mister Boggins!" The taller of the strangers exclaimed loudly and instantly pushed his face close to the door. "So you haven't left!"

"Baggins," Bilbo corrected. "And who are you if I may ask?"

"Oh, of course!" The shape moved back to stand next to his companion and they both did a strange little bow-move before answering. "Kili and this is my brother Fili!"

"Oakenshield," added the other… Fili-shape, with a bit more restraint in his voice. "We came from Ironhill."

As he suspected, then.

"I was not expecting anyone," Bilbo edged a bit closer to the door, opening it a few millimetres wider, intrigued. It was a long walk in the snow and these two were covered in it from feet to waist.

"Oh, we know!" Shape called Kili swayed excitedly. "It's hard to get uphill at the best of times, you see, and now it's nearly impossible."

Well, that he knew.

"My brother wanted to say that folks in the town are aware of your, well, situation," shape called Fili explained patiently. "We were sent to check on you, Mister Baggins, to make sure that the newest member of our community didn't manage to get himself lost in the snow and didn't die of hunger."

"Yes!" Kili exclaimed happily as if it was one big adventure. "And we brought food!"

"Food?" Bilbo was somewhat floored by that last part and not a small bit touched by it.

"Bombur, the big guy that runs the grocery store, said he hasn't seen you in over a week so he packed some things he though you may need in the meanwhile." Fili-shape pointed at the backpacks attached to their backs. "Sweet fellow that he is, he's made sure that you will have enough to eat till the thaw."

"Yeah, his care and consideration almost broke my back." Kili-shape grumbled until the hit over the head silenced him.

That was… remarkably nice. Bilbo, indeed, remembered the rotund owner of the grocery store, his impressive red beard was hard to forget, same as his love of pastries that he shared with Bilbo on his first shopping trip. They spend a good hour arguing the superiority of apples over pecans when it came to pie fillings and Bilbo left the store pleasantly surprised that he's already managed to find a friend.

That was the decisive factor in his decision to open the door fully and face his guests properly.

"Well, I can't keep you on the porch if that's the case," he smiled kindly at the two shivering figures. "But I warn you, if you came here to kill me and steal my possessions, you've wasted your time as I left the silvers in Bree."

That bit sounded more humorous than was intended and both shapes laughed loudly and freely before pulling their hats off and scarves down to reveal two matching smiles.

They were both young, barely out of boyhood, by the look of them, even if they both somewhat towered over Bilbo. They were like night and day, one dark-haired and the other blond, but something in their faces made it obvious that they are family. Also, both seemed unbelievably friendly.

So friendly in fact, that Bilbo felt no qualms about gesturing for them to get inside.

"Come on, then," he stepped back holding the door open. "I can offer you something warm to drink after climbing all the way here. Do hurry up," he rushed when the boys seemed to freeze on the doorstep with unsure expressions crossing their faces. "You're letting the cold in, get in."

That did the job and soon enough Bilbo had two dripping, shivering guests ridding themselves of their soaked jackets and boots and looking around the hall in wonder.

"I never thought that I would live to see the inside of this place," Kili said quite seriously, nodding his thanks when Bilbo offered to hold his coat so the boy could fight with his shoelaces unhindered. "I mean, I always wanted to see it from the inside when I was a kid, you know." He explained somewhat sheepishly at the questioning took he was given. "Do you have ghosts?"

The matter-of-fact question caused Bilbo to crack a smile and shake his head.

"Don't mind him, Mister Baggins," said Fili. "Some of us never grow up."

"Hey!"

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If he had more time to think on it, Bilbo would be surprised how fast he's warmed up to the brothers. They were young and lively, entertaining and polite to a fault. However, when he finally seated them down in the kitchen and stoked the fire, and they started to unpack their backpacks, he was ready to hug them both.

They brought tea! And milk!

Granted, the milk was half-frozen and needed thawing, but Bilbo was so happy that he didn't even think before offering his guests generous helpings of hot chocolate from his dwindling stock. Couple of minutes later he was rewarded with appreciative moans as they downed the liquid without as much as blowing on it to cool it down. He winced, but when there was no complains, he set about making a proper pot of tea.

Bombur was quickly becoming his favourite person in the world, as the box of tea was followed by a couple of loafs of fresh bread, a jar of cherry preserve, jar of honey, butter and a tin of biscuits. There were three different kinds of cheese, a large piece of ham, pork sousages and even carefully packaged tomatoes and eggs! The man had to remember what Bilbo bought from him a week ago and filled in the gaps with what he thought would be appreciated. My, he even remembered to pack a dozen cans of tomato soup Bilbo preferred!

Oh, it was such a nice gesture.

"I will have to thank him as soon as possible," Bilbo prattled while putting everything away. "Do you happen to know how much I am supposed to pay for these? It's so terribly kind of him. Oh, these shortbread cookies are my favourite too! How did he know?"

"Bombur didn't tell us, Mister Baggins," Fili answered him over the rim of the mug full of hot _properly milky_ tea. "You will have to settle it with him when you go down, I'm afraid. But he's a lovely fellow, I am sure he can wait for the road to clear a bit."

"Hates to see folk hungry, that one," Kili added with a smile. "Make a friend of him and you won't _ever_ have to worry about lacking quality food, Mister Baggins."

And speaking about food.

"Ah, where's my head," Bilbo turned form the cupboard and measured his guests with a look. They were both draped in blankets and nursing steaming mugs. Bilbo even found some old slippers to lend out as their socks were currently drying by the fireplace next to the coats. They looked so young like that, Bilbo thought, with their long heir mussed and noses still red from the cold. "You have to be hungry, boys, I'm sure that I can whip out a bowl of soup that will warm you up."

They shared a long look at that and Bilbo waited. He was familiar with the way some siblings communicated without speaking – he's seen it happen between his younger cousins a lot, - and waited for the decision. After all he was as strange to them as they were to him. He didn't have to wait long, tough, because not a moment later he was rewarded with two hopeful looks accompanied by cheerful smiles.

"If you insist, Mister Baggins," Kili shrugged under the blanket. "All that climbing was exhausting to tell you the truth and I am afraid that if you don't feed us, we will have to take matters into our own hands."

His voice was teasing, but there was something in his dark eyes that made Bilbo's hand hesitate over the pan he was about to pick up. A glint of something serious and cold… that lasted until a broad hand smacked the lad on the head and his brother sighed in exasperation. "You will stop eying those biscuits, Kili, or I _will_ tell Bombur to sit on you."

"Oh, okay, okay," grumbled Kili and Bilbo couldn't help but laugh at his sullen expression. He opened the mentioned tin and without hesitation placed it on the counter between the brothers.

"Here you go," he encouraged them with a gesture. "I hope it will tide you over until the soup is ready."

"Oh no, we couldn't possibly…" Fili tried to protest, but Kili was already dipping the pastry in his tea so it was pretty useless. "You greedy monster! I swear, I'm ashamed to be related to you!"

Bilbo smiled at the bickering duo and went back to opening cans and rummaging through his spice cabinet.

Little did he know what feeding these two strays would bring on his head in the nearest future.

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	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, you can't possibly think of going back now!" Bilbo stared in disbelief at the youths occupying his kitchen table. Calmly, they stared back, maybe a bit confused by his sudden distress so he rushed to clarify. "It's late and absolutely freezing outside!"

That little outburst made them smile instead of reconsider, though. "It's okay, Mister Baggins," Fili waved the worries away. "We grew up in this place and spent every winter buried in the snow up to the eyeballs!"

"Ironhillers are impervious to the cold!" Kili proclaimed proudly.

However, Bilbo was not convinced. He was a caring person by nature and these two rascals someway managed to steal their way into his good graces with nothing else than their smiles and a couple of hours of chatter. "But what if you get lost or… or something?" He fretted. "No, no, I can't allow you! There are enough beds in this old place for you to spend the night and go back tomorrow."

Yes, that was a good idea, perfect, actually. He could not think about all the dangers that waited on the boys outside – even if it wasn't that late yet, barely a quarter past nine, it was still cold and dark and windy, and the road downhill was winding and unsure. It was smarter to wait till the morning.

But the boys were shaking their heads at the idea.

"We would love to stay, really," promised Kili sincerely. "But both of us have morning classes to attend to and our uncle will box our ears if we turn up late."

Oh, of course. They did say they were attending local college and if there was one thing Bilbo would not begrudge anyone, it was proper education. Even so, it still didn't sit well with him to just let them go like that…

"But… I will walk you, then." He decided in a moment of inspiration. It was a silly idea and he knew it a second later when he turned to put their empty bowls in the sink, but once voiced, Bilbo couldn't back out. Even if the thought of braving that cold by himself was an extremely unpleasant one. "I will walk you to the town and then…"

"Mister Baggins, don't be ridiculous," Fili cut him off quite rudely, but with such amount of amused exasperation that Bilbo could not scold him for it. It took the lad three steps to stand in front of the older man who, to his own annoyance, had to raise his head to keep the eye contact.

Now, it needs to be mentioned that Bilbo Baggins was not good with conflicts of any kind. He liked to think he's being rational and reasonable, but in the end he suspected that his spine is just too soft to withstand the amount of stress that dealing with opinions different than his own brought about. Even if his 'opponent' was over a decade younger and quite friendly and reasonable in his disagreement.

"If anyone runs the danger of getting lost, it's you, Mister Baggins. I and my brother, we know this area like the back of our hands, we will be quite safe." There was a hand on his forearm, gentle and friendly; everything about the young man in front of him spoke of kindness and trustworthiness and Bilbo could feel the fight draining out of him when confronted with honest blue eyes above him.

It made sense, of course it did, why was he even protesting, he didn't know… Or maybe he did. Maybe he was a bit more selfish in his reasoning: the boys were a good company for these few short hours they shared with him and Bilbo could already feel the loneliness that would close on him after they're gone. It was silly and immature, but apparently he needed human interaction more than he needed tea!

What a dreadful thought.

In the end Bilbo let them go without protest, but not without many warnings and a promise to call him when they get back home – he gave them his number and also made them call their home to make sure that someone on the other side knows to expect them. Kili made faces when on the phone, but was serious enough when he reassured the person one another end (his uncle, judging by the low decidedly manly voice in the receiver) and promised to be careful on the way.

Bilbo was still nervous as he watched them pull their winter gear back on, but at least now – with a clear plan in motion – he could cope better.

"Don't worry, Mister Boggins, we will come over soon!" Promised Kili, patting his arm in a friendly manner. His hat was already sitting on his head, low enough to shade his brown eyes and, together with a bulky coat and massive winter boots, made him look like some sort of a silly dwarf. "Your soup was great and sorry for the biscuits, I really meant to leave something for later."

"_Baggins_," Bilbo corrected quietly, watching from his doorstep as the brothers stumbled down the driveway and disappeared in the darkness, their position marked only by a weak glare of the borrowed flashlight. He stood there until his toes started to curl from cold and only then closed the door and went back to the kitchen, to clean up the dishes and take proper stock of the goods that Fili and Kili brought him.

While driving halfway across the country Bilbo didn't expect to meet with such warm welcome and genuine care from his new neighbours. He's met maybe three local people since buying Erebor and properly talked with two of them – Bombur and Mister Balin, - yet they were worried about him and seen to it that he was safe in the storm.

_What a pleasant surprise,_ he thought to himself snuggling under warm blankets in his comfortable bed. _These Ironhillers are really lovely people_.

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"What do you think, then?"

Snow creaked under their feet as they made their way downhill at a fast march, hands joined and steps matched. The flashlight has been safely tucked away into one of the backpacks as soon as the daunting shape of Erebor disappeared from view.

"He's nice."

"Mhm. He seems to be genuine." A beat and then, "Cute, too."

"Kili!"

"Don't bite my head off, you have to admit that the whole 'tiny bloke in a knitted cardigan' thing is pretty attractive in a totally non-exciting, homely way. A bit like dear Ori, don't you think?" Another beat. "Oh come now, I can watch without touching."

"I hope so. We need access to the house so play nice."

"It won't be hard, he is soft and _hopelessly_ _proper_."

"Being respectable is not a curse, you know? Try sometimes, you may like it."

"Nah, I like it well enough on others, until they run the risk of being dreadfully boring."

"Nonetheless, keep him happy and he will allow us back. Now we just have to figure out the way to get the others in as well."

The moon shone briefly from behind the clouds, thin and sickly pale, casting a silvery glow over their loose hair and glistering eyes for a few moments until it quickly hid back as if afraid of what it saw.

"You are sure it's there, aren't you?"

"Kili…" a sigh.

"I am just making sure! You... you are older and you know how it looks. I…"

"I am sure, it's somewhere in the mansion, just waiting to be found. Mister Baggins is a godsend and we have to grab the opportunity he presents with both hands." One silent snigger later another exasperated sigh erupted from the blond. "Not in this way, you beast!"

"I didn't say a word, just agreed with you. This Baggins seems easy enough; you talked him around without trouble."

"Yes, he is pretty susceptible to suggestion…"

"Yeah, and also pretty _pretty_."

"Kili, I swear!"

"Oh, come on! He even made canned soup taste good; if that's not a skill I don't know what is! I call dibs!"

"Soup, eh? I wonder what you will have to say about it when the time comes."

"…er, what?"

"You hold my hair, I hold yours?"

"Oh… eugh, shit!"

"Told you to lay off the biscuits, didn't I?"

"_Oh eugh!"_

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For the next three days Bilbo wavered between marvelling at his new neighbours (mostly during breakfast when hot milky tea helped him to unglue his eyelids and _live_) and trying not to think how lonely and empty the house seemed without any company (mostly during dinner, when he didn't have anyone to smile at while thinking of a particularly good bit of dialog for his book). He could hardly help it, he was an intellectual kind and thinking was what he did best after all. Also, the mansion didn't give much opportunity for distraction at the moment – when everything has been accounted for and planned out, with no way to make his those plans reality it was simply frustrating to be suck inside all day with nothing else, but a plain sheet of paper staring at him accusingly from the hold of his old typewriter.

So he sought distractions outside. Bilbo's mother always said that nothing cleared the mind as well as a bit of physical exertion and even though her son wasn't into any sort of those bothersome 'activities' like jogging or biking, he wasn't stranger to a bit of hauling and pushing. On the second day after his unexpected visit, Bilbo ventured outside.

It took him most of the morning to clear the snow off the driveway and the porch. Shrubs and a few old spruces growing around the house managed to keep most of the snow drift away, and Bilbo was thankful, otherwise he wouldn't be able to put the shovel away before dinner. He made sure that his car didn't freeze to death in the shed (yes, he was one of _those people_ that cared about their possessions maybe a bit more than it was healthy and his Minty was surly a well-loved machine).

After lunch he dared to shovel a bit around the road, but quickly gave up the idea as the drifts were simply too big. He was already sweaty and out of breath and he wasn't even out of the gate yet! How did the boys manage to brave this barrier was beyond him.

He spent the evening in front of the fireplace, trying to coax his stiff fingers back to life and, for all the tiredness and aching muscles, Bilbo was feeling much better.

Next day started early with an influx of inspiration that had him spending three hours in his little office beating at the keys, powered by milky tea and a stray apple he's found in the cupboard. After finishing something that had a potential to be polished into a pretty decent chapter, Bilbo decided that it's time to celebrate and went out to build a snowman.

It was quite an impressive affair, close to eight feet in size, sculpted with care and adorned with pinecones unearthed during the shovelling day before. The snowman sported a startlingly smug smile that had to be blamed on a pair of suspiciously lowered eyebrows – and no matter how much Bilbo fiddled with two thin twigs it refused to change. Admitting defeat, the amateur sculptor decided to stretch his legs a bit and set out for a short walk around the estate.

It was quite a lovely day all around – the sky was clear and blue, the sun shonebrightly and the landscape in every direction was simply breath-taking. Bilbo grieved the fact that the box containing his camera hasn't arrived yet – and, judging by the way he was stuck on the hill, may not arrive for a number of days. Hopefully, he will have many more days like this to take photographs and marvel at the world.

Maybe he could get a dog? This kind of setting called for a dog. And not one of those miniature flat-faced rats the city dwellers preferred to keep – no, this scenery needed something that went at least past its owner's knees and knew how to run and tumble and fetch sticks. Maybe a German Shepherd? Or a Pointer, they were good outdoorsy dogs. It would surely feel nice to have a big, alert creature keeping an eye on the happenings in and around the mansion.

With these thoughts filling his head, Bilbo spent quite a delightful afternoon with his inherent cup of tea and a rough draft of the tenth chapter in his novel. He mumbled to himself, murmured dialogs to check out their flow and excessively used green gel pen to mark all the changes and additions to the text. It was going well.

It was going so well, in fact, that an interruption was almost expected.

And so it happened.

The doorbell rang.

This time Bilbo took it with less panic and no stained fabrics. In fact, he took it with a quiet sort of anticipation as he dashed to the foyer, pulling his cardigan on and switching the lights on the way. That same anticipation made him throw caution to the wind and open the door without care… before it died a swift and painless death at the sight that awaited on the other side.

The man was… big. Not only tall, though that was certainly one of his main characteristics; he was also incredibly wide and, in some strange sense, _solid_. Like a piece of rock that fell off from the ridges behind the mansion to stand on Bilbo's doorstep. Well, a living piece of rock with bald, tattooed head, thick, disapproving eyebrows and a pair of dark, glaring eyes.

Oh, _did_ the man glare.

"Good evening…?" Bilbo desperately tried to make it not sound like a question.

"Dwalin," impressive beard moved and a voice resembling poured gravel rolled from underneath. " At yer service."

The sound Bilbo made, on the contrary, could be easy to find in a nest of mice.

"Er, yes, at yours," he cleared his throat couple of times while the mountain of a man stood on his doorstep as if he belonged to the landscape. "Was I, eh, expecting you?"

The rescue, surprisingly, came from behind the man's back, in a form of a young voice yelling with glee: "Uncle Dwalin, don't scare Mister Boggins! He shares his cookies!"

As strange as the message was, Bilbo felt instantly better when two smiling faces appeared on both sides of the man called Dwalin. Kili and Fili, hatless heads of tangled hair and eyes filled with mischief, rounded on him with armfuls of bags and boxes.

"We brought more food!" Kili exclaimed happily. "And some of your stuff came in delivery so we got that too!"

"Delivery? How…?"

Bilbo tried to peek around the trio on his porch and, sure enough, his eyes found a car parked on the driveway – a massive, battered 4x4. Some sort of Range Rover, he couldn't see well in the dark, but it certainly looked powerful enough to get through the blockage.

"_Sure we can_… my ass," Fili was certainly less enthusiastic than his brother, but his eyes shone with mirth as he pushed his way to the door and handed Bilbo one of the parcels. "Boys from TNT took one look at the road uphill and turned tail after leaving all your things at the post office. One of my friends works there and he asked us if we could get them delivered with the food, so here we are… Can we come in?"

The last question had Bilbo almost stumbling over his own feet to let the trio in and herd them in the direction of the warm kitchen, all the way fussing with the bags and boxes and taking their coats that this time were blessedly dry, and trying to find words of thanks for yet another unexpected favour.

"That's okay," Kili waved him off easily. "We knew that if there's a car able to get us here, it has to be uncle's old mule, so we jumped on the bed long enough until he agreed to drive us."

"You… what?" Bilbo was sure that something escaped him in this conversation.

A powerful sigh form the mountain-called-Dwalin turned his attention from the chattering teen. "I wish the little fool was jokin'," the man grumbled. "Couldn't shut up 'bout the place, these two, and it looks that the snow will hold. Seemed a decent thing to check on ye, Master Baggins."

"Oh, no, none of that, please," Bilbo set left his package on the kitchen table and offered his hand for a handshake… and then watched it disappear in a clutch of a giant, freezing paw. "Call me Bilbo, please. I don't know how to thank you, Mister Dwalin, and your boys…"

The handshake was strong and short, business-like. "Dwalin." This was a man used to short sentences and no beating around the bush, Bilbo decided. And the width of his shoulders straining the checkered flannel shirt suggested that he was also perfectly able to apply his own beating when occasion demanded it.

"Well, then, okay. Fili, Kili, how about you get these bags on the counter and I will go about making some tea?" When the boys went along with his request, he turned to their uncle and waved him to the table. "Do you drink tea? I'm afraid I have no coffee."

The man grunted something that Bilbo decided to take as 'yes' (because, who in their right mind refused a cup of tea on a cold winter evening?) and set about filling the kettle when he was intercepted by grinning Fili. "Uncle really prefers hot chocolate," the blond whispered. "But he will never admit it, because he's too hard-core."

He could hardly understand how a simple cup of hot chocolate could get in the way of being 'hard-core' for a man such as Dwalin. Maybe it was a local thing?

"Well, then, let me see what good Bombur decided to send with you this time."

Bilbo set about unpacking the goods as the brothers joined their uncle at the table, each with their own cup of steaming chocolate and a box of shortbread cookies between them. It was a very strange picture for sure, but in some small way it made Bilbo feel better. Even if Uncle Dwalin was not overly talkative and his nephews mostly chewed with their mouths open, and the last box of hot chocolate was almost empty. It was still very nice.

Mostly.

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* * *

.

.

"_You don't have a TV? Why?"_

It was.

_"No internet? What is wrong with you?!"_

Really_._

_"So what do you do in the evenings, stare into fireplace?"_

_"I have a radio. It works… most of the time."_

_"Oh my God, this is just awful!"_

_._

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* * *

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.

_"You are a writer?"_

_"What do you write?"_

Uh Oh.

"_Romance books?!"_ Kili's delighted exclamation had to be heard in the attic. _"Like, harlequins?"_

Bilbo was trying to keep the embarrassed blush down; he was used to the reactions most people displayed at discovering his main profession, and the questions they couldn't get to ask fast enough, but he's never had anyone question him with such… enthusiasm, before.

_"No, Kili, I write adventure stories."_

The most surprising question, though, came from behind the thick beard: _"Hrm, something I might've read?"_ Mister Dwalin didn't quite look like the reading type, but Bilbo was far from judging anyone by their appearance.

.

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* * *

_._

_._

_"B&B, hm? Good idea if I ever heard one. The place will do good with people."_

For some reason these words and a single nod of approval from the man felt nicer than they've had right to feel. It's not as if Bilbo was asking anyone's permission to do what he wanted, but it was suddenly important that someone local … approves.

_"Uncle is the local woodsman,"_ Kili informed him while messily chewing on a cookie_."He stalks the forests behind the estate and… ouch!"_

The boy was obviously used to getting hit on the head by his brother and uncle, Bilbo thought, otherwise he would take more care with what came out of his mouth. Not that it wasn't amusing.

_"I run a sawmill in the valley_," Mister Dwalin corrected with a stern expression. "_Family business, and the woods around fall under it. When Balin said someone finally bought the house, I saw it that you'll have something to put in the fireplace."_

_"Oh… oh, so it was you! I'm sorry, that was very thoughtful of you. May I know how much it…"_

_"Nothing."_

_"But…"_

_"Enough that folks live here again. Every house needs an owner and Erebor missed… life."_

_"Oh, thank you nonetheless."_

.

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* * *

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.

When the time came for them to go, Bilbo was trying to put on a brave face as the thought of being alone again came back with vengeance. He thanked Mister Dwalin profusely and offered his thanks to the boys, and they had to be related, because all of them waved him off with a 'decent thing to do' excuse. Fili and Kili dashed to the door, eyes darting everywhere, doubtlessly curious about the lonely, mysterious house on a hill. Maybe they looked out for the ghosts?

"Thank you for visiting," Bilbo followed with their uncle at more sedate pace. "And sorry to keep you this late."

"Nah," Dwalin grunted in usual gruff manner and his dark eyes shone with something that could be called amusement if one was brave enough to throw words around. "Tell you the truth, Baggins, I've been curious too. Haven't seen the place in ages."

Oh, so it was some king of local curiosity, then. Not surprising, considering.

"Well, it's not much yet," Bilbo admitted with a shine on his own. "There's a lot to do yet, but I plan to make it ready for summer and then… you will be surprised, that I can promise you. That is, if I manage to get some crews up the hill before April."

"Crews? Ye planning to rebuild?"

And, just like that, the glaring was back. Bilbo couldn't deny fast enough.

"No, no, of course not! It's just that the place needs… refreshing. There's painting, new carpets and furniture to sort out. Someone has to see to the window frames, some has to be resealed. It's just… it's an old home and it needs some love." He finished with a hopeful smile.

He waited patiently for the man to pull his boots on. Boys were already outside and, judging by the sounds coming from there, they've discovered his snowman.

"Tell ya what, Baggins," Dwalin rose to his impressive twenty feet to tower over poor Bilbo, as some important decision went down in his mind. "Ye don't need to look far, I can ask 'round. There's enough folk that can help ya with these things."

"Oh no, I would hate to…"

Never has he seen a "Shut up and listen," glared with such authority. "I can even lend out these two fools to help ya dust and move furniture if ya want to. It'll do them good to be outta the house for a while. And I'll ask after these windows of yours, there's someone who'll know how to fix 'em."

"But…"

"That's settled then, good. Evening."

"But…"Bilbo was left in the doorway with his mouth open in protest and no knowledge of where did the situation turned in this direction. "Good evening," he whispered to the back lights of the car that was leaving his driveway.

He had to revise his opinion on the Ironhillers, it seemed.

They were _still_ lovely people. Just… lovely in a very _forceful_ way.

.

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* * *

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"Put the heating on, will ya?"

All Kili got for his trouble was a slap on the fingers when he tried to reach from the backseat and fiddle with the buttons. It didn't really hurt, but he made a big production of blowing on his hand anyway. Dwalin just rolled his eyes and adjusted the controls accordingly.

"I knew it was a good idea to bring you along," Fili, curled tightly on the passenger seat, admitted with a small smile. "Mister Baggins didn't stand a chance."

"It's only because he is big as a bear," Kili teased. "And scares people into submission. Also, the accent never fails."

"I got you a way in, you twit, be grateful!" Dwalin snapped back, but is voice was tainted with fondness. "If I left it to the two of you we would never get there."

"Oy, I can roll them like a pro, you know!"

"And yet you'd rather waste time playing idiots."

"That's the guise he got hooked on; a safe bet, really, " Fili shrugged without shame. "Why change a good thing? He is kind to the 'boys' and won't suspect anything is amiss when 'they' ask for a tour of the 'mysterious mansion'."

"If all goes well you'll get more than a tour. You might have to search the place from top to bottom so use your time wisely."

"Will you get Nori?" Kili asked, leaning over the passenger seat, one arm thrown over Fili's shoulders. "He knows where to look for precious; he may find some clues…"

Dwalin chewed at the answer for a bit and the brothers weren't surprised. Their 'uncles' relationship was very strained and only thing that helped to make their interactions somewhat civil was distance. A lot of it.

In the meanwhile Fili snuggled into Kili's arm and didn't protest when its owner leaned in to steal a kiss. "I'm hungry," Kili whispered close to his lips. "Do we have to eat with him? It's _nasty_…"

"I know, but it's a part of the game, they feel better when we seem like them."

"And what about _me_ feeling better?"

"Next time just stick to the tea and it should be alright, he's already caught."

"That he is… hm, do you think it would be okay then to…"

**_"No!"_**

Cornered by two exasperated faces Kili raised his hands in surrender and flopped back against the backseat.

"You leave him be, brat, he's not local!" Dwalin ordered loudly.

"That's the point!"

**_"Kili!"_**

"_Fine_!"

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End file.
